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“Not everyone made it out of there,” Coulson states simply, and you curse broadly and creatively to fight away the dull feeling that settles in the pit of your stomach. You can swear like a sailor, but what you can’t put into words is the only question that matters, Who? so you just look helplessly at him and hope he understands.
He does, of course, because he’s Coulson and he’s magical and he can do everything, and he says softly, “Cap. And the Hulk.”
It should be easier to hear their alter egos, less personal somehow, but it’s not. Cap is just Steve, who had faith in you when the others didn’t, who trusted you when everyone else thought you were a criminal. The Hulk is Bruce, who is quiet and has good taste in music and sometimes talks to you about science when you can’t sleep.
Or at least, that’s who they were.
Tony made it; he’s in his workshop, and Thor is back in Asgard. Natasha is outside the door, he says; when she hears her name, she steps into the room and Coulson takes that as his cue to exit.
Neither you nor Natasha feels like a hero, but it somehow makes more sense to grieve the real ones together.